


Hello, My Old Heart

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (toward the end), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Vampire, Falling In Love, Found Family, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Akaashi Keiji was turned, he cut himself off from everyone he loved, determined to live his life alone rather than risk hurting anyone. </p><p>Two hundred years later, he finds that resolve tested when a bright, energetic young man, with a secret of his own, invades his work space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, My Old Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlternativeMaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternativeMaid/gifts).



> Another commissioned piece! I'm a sucker for vampires, so when Noah came to me with a prompt for Akaashi being a vampire, well . . . things may have gotten out of hand, and I ended up writing much more than I intended, ahaha.
> 
> Enjoy!

Two hundred years ago, if someone had asked Akaashi Keiji what he thought he'd be doing in the future, he definitely wouldn't have listed working at a bar while attempting to hide his true identity as an option. After he was turned and subsequently abandoned by his sire, he spent quite a few years wandering aimlessly, trying to control his thirst and avoid anyone he knew. He couldn't return to his family, afraid he would hurt them, and as the years passed and things changed while he remained the same, he began to realize that he should shy away from attachments completely.

He's immortal; a never-aging monster.

Who would want to spend their lives with a creature like him?

Eventually he wound up here, working as a bartender at Nekoma. It's a small, hole in the wall izakaya that doesn't get too many customers, but the quality of the drinks and food is so good that loyal patrons frequent it often and don't mind spending a little extra. It's owned and operated by a young man named Kuroo Tetsurou, who apparently inherited the business from his father. Keiji likes it because it's dark and quiet, peaceful. It opens at 18:00 and doesn't close until 4:00, which means Keiji doesn't really have to worry about sunlight.

He also likes his coworkers. There aren't many of them, but they're good people. There's Fukunaga Shouhei, who works in the kitchen with Kai Nobuyuki. Keiji's not sure he's ever heard Fukunaga speak, but Kai always greets him with a smile, and his calming presence is always welcome. Yamamoto Taketora heads up security and checks IDs at the door. He takes his job very seriously, and Keiji's seen him turn away a patron whose twentieth birthday was just the following weekend.

Yaku Morisuke bartends with Keiji some nights, though his shift usually ends around midnight. He's smart and capable and makes a wicked chūhai. He's not Keiji's favorite coworker, however, if only because he frequently shouts at Haiba Lev, one of their servers, for doing things wrong (Keiji thinks it's his way of flirting, but isn't sure if he should suggest an alternative method or not).

Shibayama Yuuki is another server, a young kid newly hired. He still seems nervous around everyone, and he tries his best to do things correctly. Keiji hopes he grows to be at ease soon. His fellow server Inuoka Sou sticks close to him, showing him the ropes and trying his best to get the kid to come out of his shell. Keiji's glad for it, as Inuoka's friendly personality and quick smile is soothing.

Keiji's favorite coworker, however, has to be Kozume Kenma, Kuroo's boyfriend. He works the bar most nights with Keiji and tends to stay as long as Kuroo does, despite also having classes at the local university during the day. He's reserved and somewhat lazy, but he doesn't cause drama or ask too many questions about Keiji's personal life. When they first met, all he said was that Keiji could call him by his given name, since everyone else already did.

Keiji soon learned that Nekoma is very much like a family. Everyone there is comfortable with each other. They banter and tease; they squabble now and again but never long enough to create hard feelings. They help each other out; they help _Keiji_ out, like he's one of them. Like he's a part of their family.

He's not looking forward to the time when he'll have to leave them.

 

 

 

It's almost time for his shift, and he's run out of blood. He has a connection at the local blood donation center who's amoral enough to fudge the books and give him blood (for a price, of course), but he only gives him a week's supply every two weeks, forcing Keiji to ration it out as best he can. It leaves him feeling weak and sometimes dizzy at work, but so far he's managed. He must have accidentally consumed too much one night.

After contemplating calling in sick and realizing that he can't afford to take time off, Keiji grabs his umbrella and makes his way to Nekoma, as the sun begins to set behind the trees of the nearby park.

Yaku greets him, as he places his things in his locker in the back room. "Hey, sorry. I actually can't work today; there's this family thing I need to go to that I can't get out of. I already spoke to Kuroo about it, but you don't have a cell phone, so I couldn't call to let you know."

Keiji blinks at him. "Oh. Okay." He hesitates, wondering if he should ask after Yaku's family, but before he can think of the proper way to do so, Yaku's already waving and leaving the room.

He doesn't usually mind watching the bar by himself (he knows Kenma will be in soon, and Kuroo's always around somewhere), but he can't stop the slight uneasiness from flip-flopping around in his stomach. Already he's feeling dizzy from lack of blood, and when Kuroo sees him exit the room, he does a double-take.

"You feeling okay?" he asks, eyes narrowing.

"Fine," Keiji says, stepping over behind the bar counter to pull on his red apron with the black cat logo on the front. He manages to keep his fingers from trembling, as he ties it off behind his back.

Kuroo looks skeptical but before he can press further, the front door opens and Kenma steps through. Instantly, Kuroo's eyes light up, and he waves, as his boyfriend makes his way toward the counter.

"Hey! I thought you had class until nine."

"Canceled," Kenma says, tugging Kuroo's arm to give him a brief kiss on the cheek before turning to Keiji. "You look like you're going to throw up," he observes.

Keiji purses his lips. Although nobody has discovered his secret yet, every day he grows more anxious that they're catching on to _something_ being wrong with him. Kenma and Kuroo are especially observant, and with them both watching him now with gold eyes sharp and piercing, he feels his stomach churn again.

"I'm fine," he assures them. "Just . . . a little hungry."

An understatement. His senses are heightened, and he can hear the steady heartbeats of the two in front of him, the rush of their blood traveling through their veins. They smell . . . good. Delicious, even. And Kenma's skin looks so soft . . .

_I'd have to drain Kuroo-san first; otherwise he won't let me get to Kenma. But Kenma's smart, he'd probably know exactly how to incapacitate me the second I attack._

Quickly, he shakes these thoughts from his mind. He doesn't want to hurt them, he truly doesn't. Clenching his jaw, he turns to face the main room. There are already several patrons there, despite the izakaya opening only an hour ago. A group of young men at a far table catch his eye, as he's fairly certain he's never seen them before. New customers are rare, and the smell of these is different than the normal smell of humans. It's sharper, more like an animal's scent than anything else, but he can't quite pin-point what type of animal.

"Akaashi."

Keiji blinks, realizing he'd been spacing out. He turns back to his coworkers, noting their concerned looks.

"If you need to go get something to eat, Kenma and I can watch the counter," Kuroo offers carefully, studying Keiji like he's trying to work out a puzzle. "It's not a big deal."

"I'm fine, Kuroo-san," Keiji says, smiling thinly. The last thing he wants to do is leave the bar and accidentally hurt someone. At least here he has enough of an emotional connection to his coworkers as to maintain his self-control. He's not sure what would happen if he was confronted by a stranger just now.

Of course, as just is his luck, he turns from Kuroo to come face-to-face with one of the young men from the back table. The strange smell is even sharper now, and Keiji has to resist the urge to lean back and cover his nose. The patron looks to be in his mid-twenties, with black and gray hair gelled so it stands straight up. He has gold eyes as well, though they're rounder than Kuroo's and Kenma's, and they blink at him rapidly. Keiji thinks he might be somewhat tipsy already, despite the early hour.

"Did it hurt?" he asks, with the utmost sincerity.

Immediately, Keiji stiffens. _Did what hurt? Turning? Does he know? Can he tell?_

He stares blankly at the young man, as Kuroo snickers beside him.

"Excuse me?" Keiji asks, feeling faint.

"Did it hurt," the young man continues, a slow grin creeping up his face, "when you fell from heaven?"

Keiji frowns. Kuroo's snicker becomes a guffaw, and the young man in front of him looks rather pleased with himself. The expression begins to fade, however, when Keiji continues to say nothing, mind reeling at the strange turn of events.

Is this guy . . . _hitting_ on him? This has never happened before. He's not sure what to say or what to do. He stands there awkwardly, the silence between them lingering. Kuroo continues laughing, until Kenma grabs his wrist and pulls him away, with an apologetic look toward Keiji.

The young man scratches the back of his head, tilting it to the side slightly. "Uh, my friends dared me to come over and ask you that." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the far table, where the other young men are laughing behind their hands, sneaking glances.

Ah. So it was just a dare; not sincere. Keiji breathes a soft sigh, though whether it's one of relief or disappointment, he's not sure. He does realize then that he hadn't been breathing this entire time. He hopes nobody noticed.

"I see. Is there anything else?" he asks politely.

The young man's face turns red. "Er, I guess not." His shoulders slump, as he turns and makes his way back to the table. Keiji watches him go, not sure why he feels a guilty twinge in his chest. As cute as the guy is, he can't allow himself to grow attached to anyone. So encouraging such flirtatious behavior is inadvisable.

That's what he tells himself, at least.

Kuroo and Kenma come wandering over once the coast is clear. Kenma's expression is neutral, as it usually is, but Kuroo's wearing a smirk that Keiji doesn't trust at all.

"So, did you get his number?" He leans against the counter, hip jutting to the side. Kenma skirts around him to take a seat on a bar stool, pulling out his phone. Technically phones aren't allowed out during their shifts, but Kuroo lets Kenma get away with a lot of things.

"No?" Keiji replies, wishing a new customer would arrive so he can distract himself with work.

"Really?" Kuroo seems surprised. He straightens. "You let _that_ go?"

Kenma gives Kuroo a dirty look. Kuroo grins, reaching over to tug gently on the ends of his hair.

"Not that he's as cute as you, of course," he offers, to which Kenma rolls his eyes and returns to his phone, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks.

"He said it was just a dare," Keiji explains, forcing himself to not glance over at the table.

"He probably said that to save face," Kuroo says, reaching out to slap Keiji on the back encouragingly. "You should go introduce yourself to him! Get a little action in your life."

Kenma looks up again with a faint frown. He glances between Keiji's pale face and Kuroo's grin and then shakes his head. "Kuro."

Kuroo turns to his boyfriend with an innocent look, placing his hand on his chest. "I'm just saying! He could probably benefit from dating." He looks back at Keiji. "You always seem so lonely."

_He's noticed that?_

"I like being alone," Keiji lies.

"But—"

"Kuro."

Kuroo looks over at Kenma, and they seem to be having a silent conversation with their eyes, until finally Kuroo sighs and throws his hands up in the air.

"Okay, fine. Die a lonely bachelor. But never say I didn't try to help." Shaking his head, he turns to head into his office.

Keiji watches him go, not sure if he said something wrong.

"Kuro likes to help people," Kenma says softly, his eyes on his phone once more. "He doesn't mean to be pushy, but he can come across that way sometimes. Don't be afraid to tell him to mind his own business."

Keiji nods, though he's not sure if he'll ever be able to bring himself to do that. Having grown up in a culture that held respect in the highest regard, the thought of scolding his employer doesn't sit right with him. Besides, it's not that he doesn't appreciate the effort Kuroo's trying to make.

More customers enter the izakaya throughout the evening, and Keiji grows busy serving drinks and making small talk with the few patrons that attempt to engage him in conversation. Every so often he checks the back table, sometimes making eye contact with the same young man from before. Whenever this happens, he quickly looks away, reminding himself of why he shouldn't take Kuroo's advice.

He can feel himself growing weaker as time goes on, however, the scent of the blood surrounding him only growing stronger. Kenma's pulse is loud in his ear, and every time they accidentally brush against each other in the small space behind the counter, Keiji's thirst heightens.

_I won't be able to maintain control for much longer. I have to get out of here._

"Kuroo-san!" Keiji nearly passes out from relief, as the man finally exits his office and approaches the counter. "I'm so sorry, but may I leave early? I'm not feeling well."

"No shit," Kuroo says, his eyes widening slightly, as he takes in Keiji's pale features. "Yeah, go ahead. Kenma and I can take care of things here."

"Thank you." Keiji bows deeply, nearly toppling over, before he retreats to the back room to gather his things.

He's almost out the door when the young man from earlier suddenly appears in front of him, blocking his way out the exit. Keiji backs away quickly, his mind spinning.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you leaving? I didn't get a chance to introduce myself! I'm Bokuto Koutarou. And, uh, I wasn't joking earlier, just so you know. I actually do think you're hot."

"That's very flattering, Bokuto-san," Keiji says, distractedly. "But I need to leave now. I'm sorry."

He tries to step around Bokuto, but he reaches out to touch Keiji's arm, stalling him. His scent is so strong, and Keiji can hear his pulse, the rush of his blood beneath his warm skin. He's so warm; too warm? What is he . . .?

Keiji wavers slightly on his feet, and he quickly steps away. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"Wait! At least tell me your name?" Bokuto asks, bright eyes watching him earnestly.

"Akaashi Keiji." He's not entirely sure if he said it out loud or not, but he hurries out the door before he can hear Bokuto's response.

 

 

 

It drains him of most of his savings, but Keiji buys extra blood from his supplier the following day. He never wants to be that close to the edge of his control again. If something had happened . . . But no, he refuses to think about it. He lies down in his small, quiet apartment, heavy black curtains blocking the sunlight from streaming through the windows, and sleeps.

Slowly, his strength returns, but with it comes the guilt and regret over his actions the previous night. He'd been far too rude to Bokuto-san, who seemed genuine with his compliment and interest. He knows it's probably too late to make things right, but he hopes he gets the chance to see him again. He's still not sure the young man is exactly human, and his curiosity is piqued.

When he returns to work that night, Kuroo watches him closely, as he pulls on his apron.

"I'm fine, Kuroo-san," he assures him. "I just needed to eat and get some rest."

Kuroo nods slowly. Leaning his hip against the counter, his eyes roam over Keiji slowly. Uncomfortable, Keiji frowns, turning to meet his gaze.

"If there's nothing else, I'd like to get to work now."

Kuroo gives him a crooked grin. "Do you believe in the supernatural?"

Keiji freezes, but before he can answer the front door to Nekoma bursts open, and Bokuto Koutarou steps into the main room. His gaze roves the interior until he spots Keiji, and then his face breaks out into a wide grin.

"Oh, good! You're here!"

Kuroo glances over, before looking back at Keiji, his grin shifting into a smirk. "Looks like you have a fan."

Keiji would blush if he could, but as it is he nearly drops the glass he's setting out for a drink order.  Kuroo pats him on the back before disappearing into the kitchen. Bokuto approaches the counter, bouncing on his toes as though he has pent up energy he doesn't know what to do with.

"Bokuto-san," Keiji greets politely, anxiety shifting in his stomach. Now that he's not delirious from lack of blood, he's able to get a better look at the young man's face. He's striking in a way that's not common, his features interesting. He's attractive, in an unusual way, and Keiji thinks a lot of it has to do with his eyes. They're bright and full of life and excitement, like he's happy just because. Keiji wonders what it's like to live like that.

"Hey, hey, hey, Akaashi!"

Keiji starts. "You know my name."

"You told it to me!"

Again, the sense that Keiji would be blushing if he could. What is it with this guy? He remembers now that he _did_ tell him his name, though, and so he bows in apology.

"Forgive me. I wasn't quite myself last night."

"Is that why you took off so early?" Bokuto asks, sitting down on a stool and folding his arms on the table.

"Yes." Keiji watches him carefully, waiting for him to order something, but Bokuto simply smiles at him, and Keiji feels himself growing nervous again.

"Is there something I can get for you?" he asks, curling one hand into a fist in an attempt to steady himself.

"Your number," Bokuto says, his smile widening into a cheeky grin.

Keiji stares blankly, wondering if he heard him correctly. But no, he has perfect hearing. He can hear the sound of someone practicing piano three blocks away. He can hear the rustle of trees in the park, their leaves disturbed by the wind.

"I don't have a cell phone," Keiji admits, and watches as Bokuto begins to deflate.

"Oh."

"But I can give you my landline," Keiji offers then, regretting it the second Bokuto lights up once more. _I shouldn’t be encouraging him._ He's not sure if this is a smart idea, but nobody's ever shown an interest in him before. And Kuroo was right, unfortunately. He is lonely. He has been for a long time. It's his own choice to live the way he does, and he knows he has to lie in the bed he's made, but that doesn't stop the ache from forming in his chest whenever he watches Kuroo and Kenma and their closeness.

"A _landline_ ," Bokuto laughs. "You're like an old man!"

Akaashi purses his lips. "I don't understand cell phones. There are so many different types and services and all the apps confuse me."

Bokuto grins. "That's cute," he says. He grabs a napkin and pulls it closer, patting his pockets then before looking up at Keiji. "Uh, do you have a pen?"

Keiji resists the urge to roll his eyes, plucking one from the holder behind the counter that they use to write down orders. As he hands it to him, Haiba steps over with a curious grin.

"Akaashi-san, table five has been waiting for their drinks for ten minutes."

Keiji grimaces. "I'm sorry, I'll have those ready in a few seconds."

As he goes about quickly fixing the drink orders, Haiba rubs the back of his neck. "Where's Yaku-san?"

"I'm not sure. He had a family thing yesterday. He might still be there?" Keiji wonders if he should be worried. He's never really worried about anyone other than himself before. It's a strange sensation.

"Oh." Haiba turns to Bokuto, who's setting down the pen. "Hello! you were in here yesterday, weren't you? Did you like everything that much?"

Bokuto grins, sliding the napkin across the counter toward Keiji. "Well, I liked one thing for sure."

Keiji quickly snatches the napkin off the counter, his skin tingling. _What is this? Does he truly mean it, or is he simply looking for a one night stand? People do that these days, don't they?_ He tries to banish these thoughts from his mind, as he sets a tray of drinks on the counter for Haiba to take.

Once he leaves, Keiji looks down at the napkin. There's a tiny owl doodle next to the number Bokuto wrote down, and he can't help but smile faintly. It's cute. He picks up the pen and writes his own number on the other side of the napkin, tearing the two pieces apart, before sliding the side with his number back over to Bokuto.

"I sleep mostly during the day," he admits. "But you can call me in the late afternoons and evenings, before I come to work."

Bokuto pockets the number, grinning wildly. "I'm free whenever!" he exclaims. "I take my phone everywhere!"

Keiji hesitates, dipping his finger into some liquid that spilled onto the counter. "Bokuto-san . . . may I ask why you're doing this?"

Bokuto cocks his head. "What do you mean?"

"With the compliments and asking for my number . . . what are you looking to receive out of this?"

He glances up to see Bokuto scratch absently at his ear. "Um, I dunno." He shrugs. "I think you're really hot, and I thought we could go out sometime. Hook up, maybe."

"I see." _As I expected_. Keiji isn't sure about the disappointment he feels sinking deep inside him, but he tries to ignore it.

"Is that cool?" Bokuto's watching him worriedly, perhaps fearing rejection again.

Keiji recalls Kuroo's encouragement the night before, how he mentioned Keiji could benefit from dating. Perhaps he can still remain detached while also enjoying the life he has right now. Just because Bokuto is attractive and engaging, that doesn't mean Keiji will grow attached.

 _You know yourself better than that_.

Ignoring that small inner voice, Keiji allows a tiny smile. 

"Yes, that's cool."

 

 

 

Days turn into weeks, and Bokuto calls him nearly every afternoon. Keiji begins to expect it, as he wakes up bleary and incoherent to his phone ringing. Bokuto rambles on about his day until Keiji has to leave for work and most of the time Bokuto winds up there too, grinning at him from his new designated place at the bar.

Keiji has to be careful about his answers to Bokuto's questions about his life, but he begins to notice that there are some things Bokuto's cagey about as well. For example, he doesn't mention anything about his friend circle, and all his talk about his family includes his father, but not his mother. Keiji knows better than to question these things, knowing he'd be a hypocrite if he pressed the issue.

Despite how well things seem to be going conversationally, however, he finds himself coming up with excuses whenever Bokuto suggests they go get something to eat, or that they go to his place after Keiji's shift. He realized belatedly that he _can't_ go out to dinner with Bokuto, because his body can't digest food anymore. If he tries to eat human food, he'll only throw it up later, and it's an experience so unpleasant, he doesn't desire to go through it for the sake of spending time with someone he sees all the time anyway.

As for spending the night . . . that's out of the question as well, considering Keiji will burst into flames if exposed to sunlight, and he doubts Bokuto has extremely heavy curtains on all his windows.

At first the rejection seemed to hurt Bokuto, but now he seems to take it in stride. He never stops asking, but he doesn't get upset when Keiji turns him down.

"I'll convince you yet," he says, his eyes flashing at the challenge.

Keiji simply smiles in return, reminding himself each time that that's all he is to Bokuto: a challenge.

There's no reason to grow attached.

But even though he keeps telling himself this, he can't help but feel a lightness in his chest akin to happiness, whenever he sees Bokuto enter the bar. And he smiles when his phone rings each day, knowing who's on the other end. He finds himself daydreaming about Bokuto's laugh, his smile, the way his eyes sparkle, the dumb way he fixes his hair.

He thinks about his hands, broad and strong. He pictures himself holding those hands. Would they be as warm as they felt before? Would they be rough or soft? And his lips . . . what would they taste like? What sound would he make if Keiji kissed him?

_I can't think about these things. It's pointless._

"You seem happier," Kenma observes quietly one day.

"I think I am," Keiji admits. It's so strange, being happy. He hasn't felt this way in a long, long time.

"I knew a boyfriend would do you some good," Kuroo boasts, tossing his arm across Keiji's shoulders.

Keiji purses his lips. "I wouldn't call us boyfriends," he says, shaking his head slightly.

"What would you call it?" Kenma asks.

Keiji doesn't have an answer. They've never discussed what they are. Are they even friends? Or do they just enjoy each other's company? They only talk. They don't spend time together outside of Nekoma, and Bokuto doesn't truly know much about Keiji. They talk about music, books, TV shows, movies. They discuss sports and favorite players, and Bokuto goes on and on about how he was the ace on his high school volleyball team. Keiji quickly found out that he enjoys boasting, but he doesn't mind. It's not like he can deny any of Bokuto's claims.

He wasn't there.

"Hey, hey, Akaashi," Bokuto says one afternoon, his voice quieter than usual.

"Yes, Bokuto-san?" Keiji nurses his mug of blood, sitting at the table in his kitchen. The sun is just beginning to set, and he doesn't need to go into work until later today, so he's taking the time to relax.

"You like me, right?"

Keiji pauses, not sure in what context he means the words. "I enjoy our time together," he says finally.

"So . . . you like me?"

Keiji purses his lips, wondering if it'd hurt to tell the truth. Bokuto sounds plaintive, though, which is strange. He's usually upbeat and energetic when he calls. Something must have upset him earlier in the day.

"Yes, Bokuto-san," Keiji relents. "I like you."

"Do you think you'd still like me if I was . . . different?"

Keiji grows still. Is it possible that Bokuto is like him? But no, he would've sensed it immediately. His smell isn’t human, but Keiji hasn't been able to pinpoint what it is, exactly. The fact that he's speaking like this, though, sets Keiji's nerves on edge. If he's about to reveal something deep and personal about himself, that would shift their relationship into something more meaningful.

Keiji isn't sure if he can handle that, considering how much Bokuto already means to him.

"Bokuto-san, what is this about?"

"I just . . . there's something I haven't told you about me. And I think . . . maybe I'm ready to. Tell you, I mean."

Keiji's throat feels tight. "It's not really . . . I mean, we're not really that close, are we? To be telling each other important secrets?"

Bokuto's quiet for a moment, and when he answers he sounds perplexed. "But . . . we're friends. And maybe . . . a little more than friends? I really like you a lot, Akaashi."

Panic tightens Keiji's throat further, sinking into his chest and making it difficult to speak. "I-I . . . I'm sorry, Bokuto-san, I have to go."

"Akaashi?"

"I have to go, I'm sorry."

"But—"

Keiji hangs up quickly, slamming the cordless receiver down on the table. His fingers are trembling. Finishing his blood quickly, he sets aside the mug before dropping his head into his hands. He groans. This was exactly what he was afraid of. He _can't_ enter into a romantic relationship with anyone, especially not someone like Bokuto, who's already so dependent on how people see him and feel about him. He _can't_ encourage anything further than what they already have, because he knows that in the end it'll only cause them both pain.

But the worst part is . . .

He's pretty sure he's already fallen for him.

 

 

 

When he enters Nekoma for his shift, Yaku is scolding Kenma.

"You can't just nap on the counter. You have to work!"

Kenma is indeed napping on the counter. Seated on one of the barstools, still in his apron, his arms are folded on top of the counter, acting as pillows for his head. His eyes are closed, and Keiji can hear his quiet grunt in response to Yaku's exasperation.

"Kuroo!" he calls into the kitchen. "Tell your boyfriend to stop napping and work! We have customers!"

"Leave him alone, he can nap if he wants to!" Kuroo yells back.

Keiji has to fight a smile, as he walks past everyone to set his stuff in his locker.

"It's unprofessional!"

"Are you working and studying and attending classes at university? No. So I don't think you have anything to say, Mr. Grumpy Cat!"

Keiji grabs his own apron to slip on, grateful for the distraction that is the usual bickering between Kuroo and Yaku. They rarely seem to see eye-to-eye on things, though Keiji sometimes wonders if Kuroo disagrees with Yaku on purpose just to get him riled up. It seems like something he'd do.

"It's not fair to everyone else that Kenma gets special treatment just because he's dating the owner," Yaku grumbles. "We all work hard here."

Keiji glances sidelong to where Haiba and Inuoka are tossing edamame beans back and forth, trying to catch them in their mouths. Shibayama stands nearby, grinning nervously, as he glances between the two and Yaku, who follows Keiji's gaze and scowls.

"Lev! Stop fooling around and serve the customers!"

Haiba gives Yaku a grin. "But we are, Yaku-san! We're providing quality entertainment!" He gestures to the closest table, who are indeed watching the show with amused expressions.

"Argh," Yaku throws his hands in the air. "I give up."

Keiji pats him on the shoulder. "Perhaps you'd be better off working at a more professional establishment, Yaku-san."

Yaku gives Keiji a rueful grin. "Don't think I haven't considered it."

"You love us," Kenma murmurs, eyes still closed.

"Maybe," Yaku concedes, and Keiji can't help but wonder if that 'us' includes him or not.

The door opens, and Keiji turns, expecting to see Bokuto, only to find himself staring at a man he thought he'd never see again. Quickly, he ducks down behind the counter, feeling as though ice has been poured into his veins. He hugs his arms close to his chest, pulling his knees up as well to make himself as small as possible.

Yaku frowns, looking down at him. "Are you okay?"

Keiji stares back at him, fear thrumming a wild rhythm in the base of his skull. He presses his lips tightly together, knowing if he speaks he'll be heard. _How did he find me? It's been nearly two hundred years._

"Can I help you?" Kuroo steps out of the kitchen, moving past Keiji's hiding spot with easy strides. He acts like he didn't see him, but Keiji saw the flicker of his eyes and hopes the newcomer didn't see it as well.

"My name is Himura Minato," the vampire's slick voice carries over the counter and sends a shiver of disgust down Keiji's spine. "I'm here for Keiji. Is he working today?"

"Akaashi? What do you need with him?" Kuroo's voice is casual, but Keiji can hear the underlying tension, a thread of warning.

_Please don't try to fight him. He'll kill you. He'll kill all of you._

"I'm his sire, and I've been looking for him. It's time for him to return home."

"His sire?" Kuroo sounds confused, but the very next moment he's back to his authoritative tone. "He's not here. Perhaps another day? I'll show you out."

"Hm, this isn't the hospitality I've come to expect from these venues. And here I was planning on ordering some hiyayakko."

"Sorry, we're all out of that. Try again some other time. I hope you have a safe trip home. Yamamoto, will you please see the gentlemen out and make sure he has a ride?"

"Sure, boss." Yamamoto doesn't waste time on pretense. His reply is practically a growl.

"Keiji-chan, you can't hide behind your little human friends forever," Himura calls into the izakaya. Keiji clenches his hands around his arms, digging his nails into his skin to suppress another shudder. "I'm sure you realize the danger you're putting them in by staying here. If you wish for them to live, I suggest you come find me soon."

"Let's _go_ , Himura-san," Yamamoto grunts.

It's only when Keiji can't smell Himura's scent any longer that he relaxes, pulling his nails out of his skin. He notes the blood on them blankly, but when Yaku quickly kneels with a handful of napkins to apply pressure to the wounds, they're already starting to close.

"What the hell?" he murmurs, his eyes widening.

Kuroo and Kenma appear around the corner of the bar, looking down at him. Keiji can't read Kenma's expression, but he doesn't seem angry or upset. Kuroo's lips are pursed, however, brows furrowed.

"You want to explain what just happened?"

Keiji swallows against the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. I-I should never have come here." He stands swiftly, already formulating a plan for leaving the city. Maybe he can go to Sendai, or even further north. Maybe he can move to Russia. There are plenty of bars in Russia with late hours.

He starts to move around Kuroo, but he puts out his hand to rest it on Keiji's shoulder, stopping him in place.

"Akaashi, if something's going on and you're in trouble, you can tell us. We'll protect you."

Keiji shakes his head, feeling tears burn his eyes. He can't remember the last time he cried, but the thought of these wonderful people trying to protect him against an evil they can't understand is too much for him to handle on top of everything else.

"You can't," he whispers.

"Why not?" Kenma asks, his voice and gaze direct.

Keiji tries not to flinch. "He's not . . . he's not human. I'm . . ." he shudders, "I'm not human. Not anymore."

"Yeah," Kuroo says casually. "We kind of figured that."

Keiji blinks, looking between the three men in front of them, none of them showing surprise. He feels somewhat lightheaded. "How?"

"You're just kind of weird, you know? Something always felt off about you. But you seemed like a good person, so I wasn't worried about it." Kuroo shrugs. "At first I figured werewolf, since I think there's a pack around here somewhere, but then you worked that night of the full moon, so I knew that couldn't be it."

"I bet vampire," Kenma says quietly, curling his hands into his apron.

"That's . . . right," Keiji says, feeling dazed. "That man . . . he's my sire. He turned me two hundred years ago. He abandoned me after I refused to go on his massacres."

"Two hundred years," Yaku whistles slowly. "Wow."

Kenma nudges Kuroo gently. "You owe me an apple pie."

Kuroo glances down at him in surprise. "An _entire_ apple pie? I thought it was just a slice!"

Kenma stares up at him silently, until Kuroo laughs, reaching up to tug on the ends of his hair.

"Okay, okay, one entire apple pie, coming up."

"If you don't mind, I'm going back to work," Yaku says. "We still have customers, dire situation or no."

"You all . . . you really don't have to protect me, or even keep me here," Keiji says imploringly. "I can leave. I'll move out of the country. I don’t want you all to risk your lives for me."

Kuroo turns back to look at him, his fond grin shifting into a crooked one. "Why wouldn't we? You're a part of Nekoma, aren't you?"

Beside him, Kenma nods. "Family," he says quietly, gaze skittering to the floor.

Keiji blinks rapidly. "I don't know what to say," he admits finally.

"Just tell us all we need to know about how to kill this bastard, and we'll be good," Kuroo says with confidence.

Yaku glances back at them sharply. "We're not going to kill anyone," he says firmly.

"You are the _definition_ of absolute zero fun," Kuroo states flatly.

Keiji has no idea how they're all remaining so calm, but he's grateful for the support. It's more than he'd hoped for, and the ache in his chest seems like it stems more from a feeling of fullness than from pain. They remain supportive throughout his shift, each of them taking turns staying by his side. Keiji notices that Bokuto doesn't come into Nekoma at all during the night, but in a way he's relieved. He's not sure he'd be able to take facing him after Himura's visit.

"You should tell him," Kenma says at one point. He sits on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth absently, phone in hand.

Keiji stares at him. "Tell who?"

"Bokuto."

"That I'm a _vampire_?"

Kenma nods.

Keiji shakes his head quickly. "Absolutely not."

"Wouldn't you rather spend your time with him happy and in love than avoid him for the rest of his life?"

"It's unfair of me to ask him to live with a creature that's immortal and will never age. And my schedule and habits . . . I can't live like a normal person, and I can't ask him to adapt to my lifestyle." He's given this much thought over the centuries. He knows it's better for everyone if he remains alone, not that it hurts any less.

Kenma tilts his head, studying him. "Shouldn't that be a decision he makes for himself?"

Keiji can't find an immediate reply, and Kenma hops off the counter and meanders to Kuroo's office before he can think of one. His words stick with him the rest of the night, though, and Keiji wonders what Bokuto had been about to tell him earlier when he hung up on him.

 _If he's also a supernatural creature, perhaps we have more in common than I thought_.

 

 

 

Kuroo doesn't want him to walk home unsupervised.

"I can take care of myself Kuroo-san. I don't live far," Keiji says. "You and the others need to go home and rest."

"I just don't like the thought of you being out there with that guy knowing where you work. He could have you followed home."

"Yamamoto-san saw him get into the taxi, correct? And he hasn't been back since, has he?" Keiji glances toward Yamamoto for confirmation.

The man shakes his head. "No, I haven't seen any shady characters lurking about, and I've been looking!"

Keiji turns back to Kuroo with a pointed look.

"Fine," Kuroo sighs. "But call me as soon as you get to your apartment."

Keiji fights a smirk. "Yes, mother."

Kuroo's eyebrows rise. "Cheeky."

Keiji doesn't miss the way Kenma's clutching his phone, or the way Yaku's hovering worriedly near the door, but he bows his thanks and takes his leave, walking briskly down the sidewalk toward the apartment complex past the park.

As he draws closer to the trees, he slows, picking up on a familiar scent that turns his stomach. He knows he should walk faster, avoid confrontation alone near a park that could easily hide a body, but he's fairly certain that Himura doesn't wish to kill him.

"You should have revealed yourself as soon as I entered the izakaya," Himura says, appearing from the shadow of a building in front of him. "Now I've had to go out of my way to come here again, and you know how much I detest wasting my time."

"You could have left me alone entirely," Keiji says, swallowing his fear, as he faces the man who's haunted his nightmares for decades.

Himura's jaw clenches. "You know why I'm here."

"You wish to take me back. But I'm not going to return. I told you how I felt about your methods of living, and I still disapprove of them." Keiji clasps his trembling hands behind his back. "I like my life here. I'm happy. I don't wish to be at your side again."

Himura hisses softly, striding forward until he's directly in front of Keiji, the scent of blood thick on his breath. "If you value the lives of your human friends, you'll reconsider."

"I'll kill you if you lay a hand on any of them," Keiji says calmly, twisting his fingers together tightly.

Himura lifts his hand, placing a sharp fingernail against Keiji's throat. "I can kill a man with a single finger faster than you can whisper his name. I'd reconsider, if I were you."

Keiji stands frozen, knowing extremely well how quickly that finger can slice through skin and veins. He's seen it in action, and his stomach churns. He feels sick, but before he can think of what to say or how to get away, he hears a low growl from the trees. Turning, he has barely enough time to leap away, before a large wolf barrels toward them and slams into Himura, knocking him to the ground.

Keiji stumbles and falls, watching with wide eyes as the wolf buries its fangs into Himura's arm, as the vampire lifts it to shield his neck. Its fur is gray, streaked with black, and from the trees more wolves emerge, all of them slightly smaller than the first. The black and gray must be the alpha. They fall into formation, surrounding the first wolf and its prey, snarling and snapping their teeth. Himura brings up his other hand, sharp nails glistening in the moonlight.

"No!" Keiji shouts, scrambling to his feet.

But he only takes a single step forward when one of the smaller wolves chomps down on Himura's arm and tears it away from his body. The others crowd in closer, then, fangs flashing, blood spraying, until the alpha manages to grab hold of Himura's neck. As soon as it severs Himura's head, the vampire bursts into ash, crumbling away into the grass.

The wolves lift their bloody snouts and howl toward the sky in victory. Keiji stares, stunned, not entirely sure what just happened.

The alpha separates itself from its pack, approaching Keiji slowly. Keiji backs away quickly, not sure if he's the intended next victim. But the wolf stops, tilting its head, and the gold eyes that look back at him seem familiar somehow. Keiji swallows hard, sniffing the air carefully. Amid the sharp smell of blood there's another scent, one that he's come to associate with feelings of warmth and happiness.

Bokuto's scent.

"Bokuto-san?" he tries hesitantly, wondering if it's possible.

The wolf sits back on its heels and a shudder runs through it. Like shaking off a winter coat, the fur melts into skin, and instead of a wolf there's a man crouching in front of him. Slowly, he stands, and Keiji can tell immediately that his nose didn't fail him.

Bokuto Koutarou stands before him, naked and sheepish, scratching the back of his head with one dirt-covered hand.

"Hey, hey, Akaashi," he says with a faint grin.

"This is the secret you wanted to tell me?" he asks weakly.

Behind Bokuto, the rest of the wolves shake off their pelts and become human. As they stand, Keiji recognizes them as the group of friends Bokuto sat with at Nekoma the first day they met. They grin and wave, nudging each other and muttering behind their hands. Keiji doesn't bother listening in; instead he turns his attention back to Bokuto.

"You saved my life," he says quietly.

"I know, right? Pretty cool, huh?" Bokuto grins, puffing out his chest, seemingly not bothered by the blood covering his mouth and chin, dripping onto his chest. "Vampires aren't that hard to kill if you know where to bite them."

Keiji flinches. He doesn't mean to, but Bokuto's grin fades, and his expression grows concerned. "Akaashi? Does this . . . I mean, you don't have to be scared of me, okay? I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. This is what I wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know the real me, werewolf curse and all. I know I said it before, but I _really_ like you, Akaashi. Like . . . _really_."

He steps forward, reaching to take Keiji's hand to hold it in both of his. Keiji stares down at it, stifling a laugh that chokes on a sob. Bokuto's hands are rough but warm, and they nearly cover his hand entirely. _Strong hands._

"Akaashi, what's wrong? I thought you liked me too."

Keiji lifts his gaze, clenching his other hand into a fist at his side. "I do like you, Bokuto-san," he says softly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. "But I have something I haven't told you either." He inhales deeply, to center himself. "I'm a vampire."

Bokuto's eyes widen. "No shit? Really?!"

Keiji nods, not entirely sure how to gauge that reaction.

Impossibly, Bokuto grins again, golden eyes sparkling. "No way! That's awesome!"

Keiji blinks. "Is it?"

"Uh, yeah, duh. We're both supernatural creatures! How crazy is that! And a werewolf and a vampire? It's like something out of those forbidden love stories!"

Keiji feels somewhat lightheaded. _Love?_

"Akaashi, Akaashi, listen, I don't care, okay? If you like me and want to be with me, then I don't care that you're a vampire! We can make it work. I want to make it work." Bokuto nods vigorously, the light not fading from his eyes.

Keiji hesitates, glancing behind him to the group of young men still standing watching them.

"What about your . . . pack?"

Bokuto glances over his shoulder. "Oh, them? Don't worry about them. They do whatever I tell them to. I'm the alpha!"

One of the young men snorts, rolling his eyes. Keiji guesses things are a little more complicated than that, but they don't offer up any protests, so he turns back to look at Bokuto, who's watching him earnestly.

"I do want to be with you," Keiji admits. "I'm just not sure how it'll work."

"We'll figure it out. And we can start with a date." Bokuto winks at him. "Wanna get something to eat?"

Keiji smiles faintly. "Bokuto-san, I can't eat food."

Bokuto smacks his forehead. "Oh! Right, right. Uh, we can go to my place and watch a movie then!"

Keiji links his fingers through Bokuto's and gives it a slight squeeze. "Why don't we go to my place instead and watch something there?"

Bokuto grins. "Yeah! That sounds cool too. Let's go!"

Keiji can't help but laugh, and when Bokuto gives him a quizzical look, Keiji releases his hand and takes a step back. "Perhaps you should find some clothes first."

Bokuto glances down at himself, before flushing bright red from the roots of his hair to his chest. _Had he truly not noticed?_

"Don't laugh at me!" he shouts to his pack, who are all snickering openly now. He looks back at Keiji. "Wait for me here, okay?"

Keiji clasps his hands in front of him with a smile. "I won't move an inch."

Bokuto grins, and, in a flash of boldness, steps forward to press a firm kiss to Keiji's cheek. "I'll be right back."

Keiji's skin tingles from the warmth of Bokuto's lips, and he reaches up to touch the spot with his fingertips, as Bokuto shifts back into a wolf and takes off into the woods. His pack follows suit, and soon Keiji is alone at the edge of the park, listening to the excited howl that echoes through the trees.

Surprisingly, despite standing by himself on the sidewalk, Keiji doesn't feel lonely.

For the first time in two hundred years, he feels something akin to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this. /)u(\ Thank you so much, Noah, for commissioning me! I hope you liked it. <3
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


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